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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26312359">leave nothing behind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronicphilharmonic/pseuds/electronicphilharmonic'>electronicphilharmonic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Splatoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Octo Expansion DLC, Octo Expansion DLC Spoilers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:48:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,286</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26312359</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronicphilharmonic/pseuds/electronicphilharmonic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>CQ Cumber takes pride in his work. </p>
<p>It's a simple job, really; controlling the Deepsea Metro is no real feat, but he still does it with as much dignity as he can muster. He keeps the cars clean, tips his hat to any new passenger, and, most importantly, acts as a guide for the next new test subject.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>leave nothing behind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>CQ Cumber takes pride in his work. </p>
<p>It's a simple job, really; controlling the Deepsea Metro is no real feat, but he still does it with as much dignity as he can muster. He keeps the cars clean, tips his hat to any new passenger, and, most importantly, acts as a guide for the next new test subject. </p>
<p>He’s seen many unlucky lab rats in his time; washed up octolings, fresh out of the war machine, wide-eyed and scared. He guides them through every test, offers all the rules he can list off of the top of his head, and winces whenever he must detonate the remote bomb strapped to their back. He congratulates them on a job well done, then thinks nothing of the looks of excitement on their faces when they find a thang. He says not a thing on the day they aren’t waiting at the station anymore - he simply marks down the date and proceeds to the next stop.</p>
<p>His employer never offers a word of thanks, nor any consolation, only simple orders that CQ sees through dutifully. He is but a cog in Kamabo’s machine, a machination in this madness. He returns the thangs to their designated locations, resets the tests, and waits - just as he is told. </p>
<p>The newest test subject, applicant number 10,008, is just like the others - analytical, frightened, determined; drunk on the dreams of the promised land. It’s all she can hope for. She totes along a plethora of Inkopolis magazines found adrift on the train tracks, circles her favorite outfits, pronounces the Inklish on the pages in her own garbled tongue. If she weren’t a pale-faced veteran, she could pass for a normal cephalopod. The denizens of the deep take a liking to her immediately; CQ finds he does as well. </p>
<p>It’s hard not to, he learns; even though she’s seen more than enough horrors in her life, she still glows with the allure of kindness and curiosity. Originally, he cites this as gullibility, but she proves him wrong in every step. </p>
<p>At first, she tries befriending the sanitized octolings; and, just as expected, they retaliate with hostility and poisoned ink. Just like all the other test subjects, 10,008 finds shock, terror, grief in their sickly green complexion and mindless fury. He hears her try to converse with them - <em> were you freed by the Inkantation, too? Let’s go to the promised land together! - </em>but there was never any hope. He never bothers telling her that it’s a useless endeavor to try and save them; she comes to the conclusion herself. </p>
<p>While she is ruthless in her tests, she’s still a child, one forced to undergo horrible circumstances - <em> just like all 10,007 before </em>, CQ tells himself. He sees the way she comes back from a whole day of testing weary and worn out; he’s seen her crying herself to sleep, huddled and trembling over her magazines. He imagines that she dreams of the world she’ll never see. CQ always dims the light of her traincar. </p>
<p>The denizens of the Deepsea Metro have grown null to the disappearances of test subjects, often willing themselves into completely ignoring the newest face in the cars whenever one rolls around. But, just as she is with CQ, 10,008 is different with the denizens; she never shies away from conversation, questions, and the like. She makes friends. She compliments coats, shoes, babies. She high-fives and shakes hands and plays rock-paper-scissors for who can read the newest edition of <em>Imagine Inkopolis</em> first. She’s the star of the show, and all of the Deepsea is her audience. </p>
<p>CQ learns that one of her newest friends is a longtime passenger, Iso Padre. Padre is, like CQ, an old soul, but he has a certain softness he never relinquished; his fine suit and red lapel pin may show his professional style, but the stuffed toys and gimmicky nonsense crammed in his briefcase break through the facade in an instant. On the off chance CQ passes by, Padre gives him a curt nod - a simple gesture that connects them, offering a helping hand or shoulder to lean on if there’s ever a particularly bad day. CQ never takes him up on the offer. </p>
<p>10,008 spends her free time curled up across from him. They may not speak as frequently as she does to others, but their presence calms each other. When she returns from her tests with a mem cake in her calloused hands, she always goes to him first, rambling about what odd memories she’s dredged out of her subconscious this time around. Padre entertains her imaginations; he asks for her mem cakes, inspects them quietly. He holds them as if they are lighter than air, otherworldly in his grasp. He compares them to the only two cakes he ever achieved. Sometimes, he’ll ask her to recall what she can remember of the world outside of Kamabo - <em> tell me about where you came from, child; provide me a memory of a home I’ll never have.  </em></p>
<p>CQ listens, too, though he keeps his distance. There’s a world out there that he hasn’t seen in far too long, and 10,008 describes it in muddled recollections. She tells of what she remembers of Octarian society - the cold metal domes, the soldier uniforms, the propaganda. CQ finds little difference in the Octarian underground and Kamabo Corporation. The thought haunts him. </p>
<p>Along with making friends, she brings friends aboard with her - an old man that loves to chat and two muffled voices from his wartime radio. She receives all the latest info a teen octoling could dream of via the two voices, along with whispers of how to escape. If he is to be dutiful, CQ would report it immediately, but for now he lets it slide. One little blemish in his otherwise spotless record is nothing to him.</p>
<p>The voices on the radio speak of something fishy going on within the murky depths of Kamabo. 10,008 responds in hushed affirmations; CQ Cumber says nothing.</p>
<p>She finishes her work quickly, too quickly, and before CQ knows it she’s found each and every asset to piece together the gate to the promised land. After months of exhaustive endurance and detonated ink scarring waves onto her back, she’s done it. The denizens congratulate her with smiles and pats on the back, bittersweet at the departure of their little starlet. There’s whoops and hollers and cheers and the train cars are filled with warmth. Iso Padre gives her a half of a hug, his favorite stuffed toy, and a squeeze on her hand. 10,008 analyzes every inch of graffiti on the cold metal walls one more time, her fingers tracing the two signature swoops of the Kamabo logo that had been burned into her mind. She laughs, quipping about how glad she’ll be when she never sees it again. The denizens laugh along with her. </p>
<p>Once she’s hugged every person she could and made promises of finding a means of communication, she heads to the front of the car. CQ meets her there. </p>
<p>She’s different from all the other applicants, CQ finds. She hopes for peaceful resolve, writes poetry about her memories, redraws graffiti into the margins of her notepad. She makes the denizens smile, makes the “detonate” button harder to press. She’s the picturesque octoling teen, the prima donna of the Deepsea Metro, drunk on the dreams of the promised land. </p>
<p>Applicant 10,008 squats down, holding out her sticker-speckled CQ-80. “I figured I should return this to you, since I won’t be needing it anymore.”</p>
<p>CQ Cumber denies it with a wave of his hand. “You know the rules, 10,008 - leave nothing behind.”</p>
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